Jack Twist
by Junior Del Mar
Summary: A series of 100 fics and drabbles based on prompts from the fanfic100 challenge. Most recently added, 25: Strangers...Jack's tire has blown out and he's about to have one hell of an end to a pretty good day.
1. Bobby's Birthday

Title: Bobby's Birthday

Fandom: Brokeback Mountain

Characters: Jack Twist, Bobby Twist

Prompt: #91--Birthdays

Word Count: 1622

Rating: T

Summary: Bobby Twist is turning eight and all he wants if for his father to be there. He just can't understand why a fishing trip would be more important. (Written for the fanfic100 group on livejournal)

* * *

Bobby Twist had been born in the early days of November on 1966, born when the temperature in southern Texas dipped just enough for people to notice. Not that it ever really got cold, but, as his momma put it, 'it was a mite chilled.' That was how Bobby now his birthday was getting close. Whenever it cooled down, presents and cake and a party were just around the corner. 

Bobby personally thought that this year, the year that he turned eight, was a very special year. He was halfway to sixteen, which in his family seemed to be the magical age. Sixteen was when you got the drive the truck without sitting on someone else's lap. It was the year his grandpa said he would let him have a job if he wanted it.

So turning eight was something of a special milestone. After this, he was over the hump and it would all be a smooth, downhill ride from there.

The day before his birthday party found him laying on his stomach in front of the TV, watching one the westerns that he and his daddy both loved. Movies where the bull riding cowboys were the good guys and the bag guys were Indians or Mexicans. His daddy had explained that in real life there wasn't nothing wrong with Indians or Mexicans, that was a long time ago.

Truth be told, he wasn't really paying attention to the program, he was daydreaming about all the presents he was going to be get from his family and friends. He knew that his granddaddy would be good for the BB gun he desperately wanted, even though his daddy got a hard look in his eyes whenever they walked about it. Plus a whole bunch of other gifts.

His daddy said that his granddaddy spoiled him too damn much, to which his momma would say that Bobby was his only grandson and it was his right. Normally Bobby would always side with his Daddy because Bobby Twist was Jack Twist's son through and through, but this was one of the rare occasions when he thought his momma had a valid point.

He really wondered what his Daddy was going to get him because his gifts were always the best of the lot. Most often they weren't real expensive and his friends would look at them with unimpressed eyes, but they meant something special to Bobby. Like the year before he'd gotten a bunch of arrowheads they'd found in a little creek when they'd gone on a little weekend camping trip together.

He was so engrossed in his daydreaming of bright wrapping paper and every gift he'd ever dreamed of, he didn't hear his daddy come into the living room.

"Hey, little man." Jack Twist greeted his son, leaning over to ruffle his dark hair and easing himself into the big armchair that belong only to him.

"Hi, Daddy." Bobby said, jumping up and climbing into his father's lap. Most of the time he pretended that he was much too old for something so babyish, but since his momma was out with her girlfriends, he decided it was safe.

"What're you watchin'?" Jack asked. "Must be pretty damn good, if you didn't twitch when I walked in."

"I wasn't really watchin'." Bobby said, settling his head against the expanse of his father's chest. "I was thinkin' about my birthday."

"That's comin' up real quick, ain't it?" Jack said, ruffling his hair again.

"Next Thursday." Bobby said.

"How old you gonna be, little man?" Jack said in mock seriousness. "Three? Maybe four?"

"Eight, Daddy." Bobby said exasperatedly. "On Thursday, I turn eight."

"Betcha don't know what time." Jack said.

"Uh…nope. Do you?"

"Of course." Jack said in mock outrage. "I was there, wasn't I? If I remember right, you was born at nine twenty-eight in the mornin'."

"I didn't know that." Bobby said contemplatively. "Hey, Daddy?"

"Yeah?"

"Did you get my present yet?" Bobby asked innocently.

"Ain't getting' greedy, are you little man?"

"Naw. Just…um, curious, I s'pose."

"Well, I have got your present." Jack answered. "But you're gonna have to wait till Thursday to open it."

"Thursday?" Bobby echoed.

"Of course." Jack said with a chuckle. "That's your birthday, ain't it? And then I'll be back."

"Be back?" Bobby asked, a heavy knot beginning to twist his stomach. "You're leavin'?"

"Yep." Jack said easily. "Goin' on a fishin' trip with my buddy in Wyomin' like I do every year Bobby. I'm leavin' tomorrow mornin'."

"But, Daddy, my party's tomorrow." Bobby said, jumping down from his father's lap.

"Naw it ain't." Jack said, sitting up with a worried look in his dark eyes. "It's next week so it's closer to that day."

"No, we changed it, Daddy." Bobby said miserably. "Danny Conner and Mike Perkins couldn't come next week so Momma moved it to this week."

"Goddamn." Jack said, dropping his head in his hands. "She musta forget to tell me, Bobby. Little man, I'm sorry."

"Can't you skip it?" Bobby pleaded. "Just tell your friend that you need to go next week instead?"

For a long moment, Bobby saw something rage behind his father's eyes. He didn't know what it was, but it was making him hurt something bad. Bobby thought of the time they'd had to put his dog Bandana to sleep because she was sick. That kind of guilty hurt.

"Little man, I just can't." Jack said heavily after a few moments. "We made them plans a long time ago and I can't go backing out. I'm real, real sorry."

"S'okay." Bobby lied.

"Little man." Jack began.

"I'm gonna go outside." Bobby said, cutting his father off and running out the front door before he could be stopped. He tried his hardest not to let the salty tears that had gathered in the corners of his eyes to go, but as he ran he could feel their wet warmth on his cheeks.

* * *

Bobby didn't say a single word to his daddy for the rest of the day. He rushed through dinner, keeping his eyes down and his mouth shut. He went to be early, telling his concerned momma that the sooner he fell asleep the sooner it could be the day of his party. She laughed and Bobby tried not the cry again. 

The next morning, he woke up before dawn. The sky outside his window was purple-blue, just beginning to lighten toward morning. He could hear someone thumping and rustling in the main level. He knew it was his daddy getting his things together for his fishing trip. His goddamn finishing trip.

When he heard the quiet creak and bang of the screen door opening and closing, he climbed out of bed and snuck to his bedroom window. From there he could see the front lawn and the drive perfectly.

He watch as his daddy chucked his canvas rucksack and his creel case into the back of the truck. There was already a tent and sleeping bags and other various bits and pieces of camping gear. Checking once more that he had everything, Jack climbed into the cab, started the engine and roared away north in a cloud of smoke.

Bobby thought that this must be what it felt like to have your heart break. Like the whole world was gray and rainy even though the sun was shining. It was like nothing was ever going to be right again.

Knowing that he wasn't going to be able to sleep anymore, he miserably padded down the hallway and the stairs and into the living room, intending to turn on the TV real soft so that his momma wouldn't hear and march his butt back to bed.

However, when he got to the living room, he found a small package and a not sitting on the coffee table. He recognize his father's large messy print especially for him because he hadn't quite mastered cursive yet. He supposed it was the birthday present he's been dreaming about.

Bobby sat crossed legged on the couch and held the little package wrapped in Sunday funnies in his hand. The note was written on what looked like a torn off piece of napkin.

Happy Birthday Little Man. I think it is time that someone else made use of this. Hope you have a good party and year. Love, Daddy

Not knowing why he was doing it since a small part of him was hating his father, he carefully folded the napkin note and tucked it into the pocket of his pajamas. Then he carefully peeled off the newspaper. His daddy had never seen the purpose in buying special paper that was just going to get torn up and thrown away.

His birthday present was his father's harmonica.

Old, bent, twisted, flattened and one of his Daddy's dearest possessions. Bobby knew that this wasn't just a present, it was a gift. It was a gift that carried a little bit of his Daddy inside it and someday it would belong to his kid and then they would have a little bit of their Daddy and their Granddaddy.

It was the best present he could ever hope for and it still wasn't what he wanted.

"I was you were gonna be here, Daddy." Bobby whispered, running his fingers over the planes of the harmonica.

Then he tucked in his pocket along with the note and went back to bed.

END


	2. Goodnight

Title: Goodnight

Fandom: Brokeback Mountain

Characters: Jack Twist/Ennis Del Mar

Prompt: #70--Storm

Word Count: 727

Rating: PG

Summary: A blizzard blows in over the little camp on Brokeback Mountain, giving Jack and Ennis a little time to warm up and connect.

Author's Notes: Set during the snowstorm where the sheep get mixed in with the other herd.

OO

Jack knew the snow was coming at least a dozen hours before it actually came. He saw the thick, heavy gray clouds gather on other side of Brokeback and he felt the bone deep ache in the middle and ring finger of his left. He's busted them beneath a horse's hoof when he was twelve and now he always knew when weather was coming.

What surprised him was how furious the storm turned out to be. The flakes started falling around dusk, big, thick, fat ones that lighted where they landed for a long second before they melted away. By the time they'd finished up supper, there was already a good half inch laying thick on the ground.

Then the wind started to blow, turning the pretty flakes into little spear driven wherever flesh was exposed.

"It's goddamn August." Jack moaned, hurrying to put everything back where it belonged so he could escaped inside the tent. "Goddamn Wyomin' mountain weather."

"I gotta get back to the sheep." Ennis said, shoving his raw hands deep inside his pockets and hunching down into the upturned collar of his coat.

"You're fuckin' jokin'!" Jack cried over the dull roar of the wind. "Ain't no damn way your goin' up to the damn sheep. It's an hour ride, ain't no way you make it without getting' lost. You're stayin' in the damn tent with me."

As he spoke, the a particularly violet gust rocked through the camp, making a side of the tent lift three or four inches off the ground.

"C'mon, 'fore the whole things blows away." Jack yelled, ducking under the flap and into the little cave of a tent. Ennis followed behind, kneeling to tie the flap down once he was in.

"Jesus fuckin' Christ." Jack said through chattering teeth, pulling off his snow soaked coat and laying it flat in a corner of the tent. If he was lucky it would be dry by morning. If he wasn't, it would be frozen solid. "It's cold as a whore's tit."

Ennis said nothing, stripping off his own coat and laying it next to Jack's. Both of them pulled off their boots and heaped them next to the tent flap to dry out. The night was going to be cold and Jack had a feeling that the morning wasn't going to be much warmer. Damn fucking weird weather.

"C'mere, cowboy." Ennis shimmied into the mess of blankets and sleeping bags that served as a beds, unbuttoning his shirt.

Jack crawled over the heap of blankets and slid down next to Ennis. They got as close as they possibly could, desperately needing the warmth that only bodies could provide. Ennis grabbed Jack's hands and rubbed them between his own as their little pocket warmed up.

"You about froze stiff." He said, holding Jack's hands against his chest.

"Ain't nothing I never dealt with before." Jack said easily. "We get storms like this ev'ry damn year back home. I reckon I'll survive."

"You better." Was all Ennis said.

Now that he was warm, Jack began to feel the effects of another long, boring, but hard day on Brokeback Mountain beginning to take hold. His limbs felt like they were made out of lead and his eyelids were hundred pounds weights. His jaw cracked in a monstrous yawn.

"Go to sleep, cowboy." Ennis said, laying down on his back with Jack's head resting on his chest.

"Ain't real tired." Jack said, another yawn breaking his words.

"Sure you ain't." Ennis said in a voice that would have been gentle if it had come from another man. "Sleep and I'll be here in the mornin'."

"Promise?" Jack asked, the word popping out of his half asleep mouth before he could do anything about it.

"Course, cowboy." Ennis said in a voice that sounded both tender and exasperated. "Where the hell you think I'm gonna go?"

"Nowhere." Jack answered, "But I was just checkin'. G'night, Ennis."

"G'night, cowboy."

Jack feel asleep.

"What're you doin' to me, cowboy?" Ennis murmured into the darkness of the tent. For no reason at all other than it felt right, he brushed the lightest, softest kiss that he'd ever given on Jack's forehead, just above his eyebrow.

"G'night, darlin'."

END


	3. Little One

Title: Little One

Fandom: Brokeback Mountain

Characters: Jack Twist, Lureen Twist, Bobby Twist

Prompt: #029 -- Birth

Word Count

Rating: PG

Summary: Lureen and Jack son has just been born and now they have to choose the perfect name.

OO

It was getting late; the clock on the peach colored wall of the maternity ward of Childress General Hospital said that it was minutes shy of eleven. Jack was tired. It had been one hell of a day; exhilarating and frustrating and too many emotions for the cowboy to name. He was a daddy. A genuine parent now responsible for the keeping a fragile new infant son.

The thought was somewhat terrifying.

Jack sat in an uncomfortable plastic chair in the waiting room with one elbow propped up on his knee, rubbing the muscles of his neck. Lureen's parents, Marla and L.D. Newsome, had finally left the hospital about ten minutes before, but not without getting in a couple of coos over the baby and jabs at Jack.

After nearing on two years of wedded bliss, or at least peaceful understanding, the esteemed Newsomes still hated their son-in-law as much as they had the day Lureen had defiantly marched his poor, rough cowboy butt into their pristine living room and announced that she was gonna marry him whether they liked it or not.

Marla Jack didn't mind so much. Sure, she hated him plenty, but she also thought of herself as a genuine Texas aristocrat and kept his disapproval to sidelong glances and withering eyes whenever Jack said somethin too "hick" for her taste.

L.D, known as Big L.D to his friends and shit eating sonovabitch to his son-in-law, was something else entirely. He lacked the subtly and grace of his wife, or maybe he was just a prick; in either case his disapproval with Jack came in the form of blunt jabs about everything from his parents to his virility.

Things like that tended to wear on a man after awhile, even a man who was known for having a good deal of patience when it mattered, as Jack was. So, he was hardly begging the in-laws to stay once they'd decided to hit the road.

Jack hadn't had ten seconds alone with his girl and his new son the whole damn day. He'd gotten one look at her sitting on the bed with the kid in her arms before Hurricane Newsome blew in and changed him into the little errand boy.

They hadn't even had a chance to name him, for sweet Jesus' sake. And now visiting hours were over and he was gonna have to wait until the damn morning. Something about that just wasn't right. A child shouldn't have to go through almost a whole day of life not knowing what they were gonna be called the rest of their life.

Of course, knowing L.D, he'd probably named Jack's son Lionel David Jr. and called it a day.

Trying to keep his thoughts from turning too mean, Jack straightened his back, kind of enjoying the bone deep cracks and pops he heard coming from his spine. As he stretched a young, tiny, pretty little thing in a nurse's clothes came into the waiting room with mischief in her eyes.

"Mr. Twist?" She said. Her accent rang a dormant chord in Jack's heart. Surrounded by southern twangs everywhere he went, a Wyoming drawl was hard to miss.

"Yes?" Jack said, looking her in pretty hazel eyes. She had light brown hair pulled back from a country lovely face and a name tag that said Katie.

"Now, I'm not supposed to do this, but your Mrs. Lureen Twist's husband, right?" She asked, leaning over and whispering.

"Yes, ma'am, I am." Jack whispered back, half wondering if she was planning on making a pass at him.

"Well, your wife told me that y'all hadn't been able to name your son yet, 'cause her parents came an' you just didn't get the chance." Nurse Katie said.

"True, miss." Jack agreed, wondering just where in the hell this was going.

"Well, visitin' hours are over, but…your wife thinks, and I agree, that it just ain't fair to have your son wait any longer to know his name." Nurse Katie said with a smile on her lips. "So, if you keep quiet, I can sneak back into your wife's room."

"Really?" Jack asked, elated. This was one hell of a way to recover from an afternoon with the hounds of Baskervilles.

"Yes, sir." Katie whispered. "You comin'?"

"Lead the way."

* * *

Not much more than five minutes later, Katie quietly opened the door to room 311 just wide enough for Jack to slip inside before she closed it with a firm click. 

Lureen was sitting upright in the bed, wearing one of her own satin gowns instead of the cotton robes the hospital passed out. Her dark hair was loose around her shoulder in gentle waves, her eyes sparkled gently, her lips curved up in a secretive smile. She looked downright pretty in the dim light the lamp provided. Jack was a little surprised. Their relationship had never been based on uncontrollable lust, but Jack had never seen her look more beautiful.

But the best part of the little picture was the tiny, sleeping infant Lureen cradled in her arms. He was so damn small, much tinier than Jack had ever thought even a baby would be. He was wrapped in a pale blue blanket, but Jack could see a down of dark hair over his fragile skull.

"Did Mama and Daddy leave?" Lureen asked, looking at her husband standing in the doorway.

"Yep. Said they'd come by tomorrow bright'n early." Jack answered, mesmerized by the sight of his son.

"I'm sorry about them, Jack." Lureen said, sounding genuinely regretful.

"Ain't your doin'." Jack said.

"Doesn't matter too much, I suppose." Lureen said with a slight chuckle. "Now, get over here and meet your son proper."

Jack crossed the little room and settled on the edge of the bed with one arm wrapped around Lureen's shoulders. He laid one finger in the palm of the baby's hand and felt his heart twist a little when the tiny fingers curled around it.

"Sweet Jesus." Jack murmured, for once at a loss for words.

"I know." Lureen said, leaning her head on his shoulders.

"He's…I dunno…damn near perfect." Jack said, taking every detail. The soft patch of hair, the curved tip of his nose, the baby roundness of him.

"He looks like you." Lureen commented.

"Naw." Jack said, for some reason unknown to him, both blushing and swelling a little with pride.

"Yes he does." Lureen insisted. "He's got more of my eyes in him, but the rest of this face is yours Jack. Bet your money on it."

"You think?" Jack said, looking for some sign of his nose and cheeks and chin in the pudgy face.

"Course. Time'll tell. A mother knows there things." Lureen said easily. "Now, what are we gonna name this little one?"

"I don't rightly know." Jack confessed. "I ain't a-given much thought."

"Well, I know Daddy wants me to name him Lionel David Jr, but I told him plain and simple that isn't gonna happen, so stop looking at me like I'm traitor." Lureen said, catching the steely glint in Jack's eye. "What about your daddy?"

"Well, his name John." Jack said slowly. "But I ain't partial to saddlin' my kid with my daddy."

"Well, have you got any relatives you do like?" Lureen asked, trailing one finger down their son's nose.

"Um...I got an uncle, name a Rob who I'm partial to." Jack said.

"Rob...short for Robert?" Lureen asked.

"I s'pose. I ain't never asked." Jack answered. "Good man, tough as nails an' smarter than anyone thinks."

"Want to know something funny?" Lureen said, smiling again.

"What?"

"I got an uncle named Bob, short for Rob. My Mama's brother." Lureen said. "I used to spend my summer at his house in Austin."

"So I guess we gonna name him Robert." Jack said, trying the name on his tongue. He had a feeling that it was gonna yell really well, which was handy when dealing with dogs and kids.

"I think we should call him Bobby." Lureen said firmly.

"Okay." Jack agreed. He'd known a Bobby in school. "Bobby Twist. I like it."

"What about a middle name?" Lureen said. "How 'bout you pick it."

"Me?" Jack said slowly. For a long moment he thought about it, and one name came to his mind loud and clear.

"Ennis." He said softly.

"What?"

"Ennis. Bobby Ennis Twist." Jack repeated.

"Ennis." Lureen echoed. "I like it. Where's it come from?"

"An old friend a mine." Jack answered, thinking about a quiet, tacit man with blonde hair and one hell of a hidden beautiful soul. "I ain't spoke with him in, hell three years, but...you know."

"I know." Lureen said, looking down at her son. "It's perfect."

"Welcome to the world, Bobby Ennis Twist."

All Jack could do was smile a bittersweet smile.

End


	4. One Mistake

Title: One Mistake

Fandom: Brokeback Mountain

Characters: Jack Twist

Prompt: 025 -- Strangers

Word Count

Rating: PG

Summary: Jack's tire has blown out and a perfectly good day is about to have one hell of an end.

OO

It was late afternoon as Jack Twist sped down the buckled, potholed blacktop in his old, beat up truck. The August heat was finally beginning to die down somewhat, and the cowboy whistled along with Johnny Cash on the radio as he drove.

Jack was in a pretty good mood. L.D fucking Newsome had taken his wife on an anniversary cruise in the Caribbean or Mediterranean or some damn islands, he hadn't been paying a whole damn lot of attention, so he had four in-law free weeks to look forward to.

And this weekend Lureen was going to Dallas with some of her no-brained girlfriends from college, leaving Jack and Bobby to have a weekend with just the men. He had a notion to take Bobby down to the rodeo. The kid loved watching the bull riders, imagining that his Daddy had been that talented.

And stupid as it sounded and mad as it still made him feel, September was starting the next day and that meant he had only two more months until he could next see Ennis. At the moment he was still damn furious about what had been said and what hadn't been said during their Spring trip, but his body's longing was getting louder than his brain's anger.

Jack sped up a little as he headed down the back road toward his home. It was getting close to six, when dinner was put on the table, and Lureen had a tendency to get pretty mean when he was late.

It was five minutes later that the front right corner of his truck suddenly dipped forward and Jack went spinning. He slammed on the breaks, skidding and screeching until he finally came to rest with his cab up on the blacktop and his rear in the shallow ditches on either side of the road.

"Goddamn." He said, breathing heavily and trying to calm his heart as it beat jack rabbit fast.

One he felt like he walk somewhat steady and without shaking too bad, he climbed out of the truck and walked around to the confirm his suspicion. The front tire had blown out, of all damn things. Damn car was older than dirt and ready to shatter to pieces and it was the eight month old tired that stranded him.

"Goddamn, summabitch truck." Jack muttered under his breath, stalking to the bed of his truck where he kept the spare. He knew perfectly well how to change the damn tire, but it was going to take a little bit of time and Lureen was still going to yell at him for being late.

He hauled the tire out of the bed and set it on the ground, trying to ignore the protesting in his back and arms. He was getting old, his fortieth birthday grew closer every year and with each year he felt the rodeo circuit taking it's payment for youth's enthusiasm. He bones ached when he went up to Wyoming in November and there were even starting to do so in Texas's much milder weather.

As he rolled the tire toward the front, he tried to take stock of where he was. The country out this way was pretty empty for the most part. A lot of their ranch customers lived out this way, raising cattle and selling them for beef. There wasn't much hope of someone friendly coming along to help.

Sighing, Jack set about getting the old tire off. Not too much later he started his started to get a funny feeling down in his gut. He couldn't say what it was exactly, a bit like when someone was staring at you, but different. He started to work faster.

Not more than a minute later he looked up and happened to glance behind him. Two men were walking up the blacktop. Relief flooded through him. With two people giving help, he would be done in a few minutes and be home only five minutes late.

Jack stood and brushed road dust off his pants. He fixed his broad smile on his face.

"Howdy!" He called, walking up the road toward. The two men sped up, but didn't say anything. One of them was holding something long and thin in his hand. Jack creased his brow, but didn't worry to much. They were probably checking for animals caught in the fence and brought a gun along to put any out of their misery.

"When they were six feet away, Jack got a good look at their faces. They were strangers to him. One had brown hair and a plain face, the other black with a scar on his cheek. To his puzzlement, the black haired one was holding a tire iron.

"Ain't I glad y'all came 'long." Jack said cheerfully. The men didn't say anything.

Jack felt that feeling rise up to a scream. Something was not right.

When the they reached him, without missing a beat, the black haired man swung the tire iron above his head.

Jack's blood ran cold with fear and knowing as he watched it swing down onto his face.

END


End file.
